Tomb of the Broken
by darksupernatural
Summary: Something has Sam. No explanations, no clues. Or so Dean thinks until he digs in and uses his hunter instincts. Can he find his brother before the damage is done? Thanks for sharing my birthday with me!
1. Prologue

**A/N: So, every year I write a story for my own birthday, something I want to do that's a little different for me, sort of a "one to grow on". This year it's this one! If you've never listened to Kenny Wayne Sheppard's _Blue on Black_, give it a listen. It is freakin' awesome! Both the chapter titles and the feel of this story came from that song. If you've read my stuff, you know music usually plays a huge part, not so much specific lyrics or anything, but the power behind the words.**

**Thanks so much to supernaturalsammy67 for help with a title, and to Blue Peanut for the kick in the arse, making me feel that after reading just a bit of a rough draft for me, that this was definitely worth the work. Hope you enjoy reading this. It might be my last one for a while.**

**WARNINGS for gore in later chapters, and a little language from tired hunters. I'll let you know where. It's not extremely graphic but may be worse if you have an active imagination. Set late season 2 because that's still my favorite. Mentions the tattoos, I think the boys would have gotten them just after Sam's possession, even though we don't see them until s3. And this Joshua is not the Joshua we've met this season. He's our armed forces bulldog that everyone loves. ENJOY!  
**

**Tomb of the Broken**

**Prologue**

_**Present day…**_

The flashlight beam panned its way across the pitch black chamber, bright light flooding it in sections. Dean crouched and stepped through the low doorway, his feet making squelching noises as they crossed moisture laden, half rotted boards. He heard something shift along the far wall, deep into the darkest corner of the room, the sound of rustling fabric.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his pounding heart finally hoping he'd found his brother and that hope making him unable to stay silent. The beam didn't shine far enough into the corner so Dean stepped forward, the boards beneath his feet creaking and protesting the poor distribution of his weight as he remained hunched to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling. Water dripped on the back of his head, coursing through his short hair and down his neck, following his spine and sending chills and a feeling of disgust through him. He stepped forward again, stopping short as the wood beneath his left foot gave way and he plunged through up to his knee. He hissed as the rough splinters gouged through his denim and scratched at the joint. He shone the flashlight down and broke off the sharp point, pulling his leg back up as he crouched on somewhat safer boards around the hole.

Dean realized that the floor beneath him was hollow only the boards and a support beam here and there, all rotting as if years of moisture had wicked its way through the fibers, made up the floor. He shined the flashlight down the hole, seeing still water, murky and shadowy. He leaned over and looked closer, the shapes floating in the water resembling something familiar. He gagged, pulling quickly back from the hole as the smell of rotting flesh and rancid water burned into his lungs. He gagged again, the smell coating his nostrils and mouth, tasting it as his stomach gave up the battle and bile rushed up his throat. He leaned to the side and vomited, knowing that if something was here it heard him when he went through the floor, so there was no longer any need for stealth. Finally, when his heaving stomach settled by degrees, he heard the sweetest sound… Sam's small whimper, the one he'd heard hundreds of times when they were kids.

Dean straightened, the beam of light shooting in the direction of the sound, finally falling on his brother. Sam shied away from the beam, crying out in pain as Dean caught the tight clenching of his eyelids against the glare, the redness of them in the chalkiness of his face. Dean dropped the light to illuminate the floor near his brother and not blind him while still watching as Sam turned his head into the object at his side, a leather clad shoulder.

"No, don't hurt us! Please! Dean, don't let them take me! Don't let them take me again!" He clung to the arm in shadows, his words a low slurred moan, that Dean's light couldn't quite penetrate. The hunter moved forward again, crouched low, slowly, so as not to frighten his brother. Sam pulled his legs back, trying to move further away from the light, away from the stranger, and closer into the leather at his side. Dean's light finally fell on the object as Sam whimpered and pulled closer to it, the thing sliding sideways into the beam. A rotting, torn up head, connected to the shoulders beneath the leather, gray and covered with greenish lichen and bits of cartilage and tissue, shadowed Sam's face as he tried to hide between it and the beam. The skeleton, Dean saw was clothed in a dark leather jacket, tee shirt, jeans and boots, all barely hanging on, half rotted and not concealing the rattling of bones, and squelching of rotted meat as Sam's movements jostled it.

"Sam?"

"No…Don't hurt us!" Sam grabbed the skeleton and kicked away from Dean with more strength and fear than Dean could have imagined. "Leave us alone! I won't let you hurt him again." Dean shone the light slightly higher, catching more of Sam's face in the beam. Sam's eyes watered profusely, his pupils like pinpricks, the contraction evidence of being long deprived of light. Dirt caked Sam's face, mud like in the fissures of his chapped lips and the lines of pain and distress around his eyes and mouth. Darker shadows on his face and neck showed Dean that his little brother was covered with bruises. His jaw and chin had a dark layer of better than week old stubble, his usual deep reddish brown, and the reason Sam never let it grow into a beard. His cheek bones, even with the forming beard were more prominent than Dean remembered.

"Hey, Sammy, shh. I don't know what happened to you but I'm right here." Dean put his shaking hand to his own chest and slowly moved closer to his distressed brother. "I'm right here."

"No. Another trick…" Sam growled, his voice taking on a feral tone, one Dean vaguely recognized with a sinking heart…as insanity.

**A/N: I have Sunday and Monday off from work because of the holiday, and will probably post the first actual chapter of this story then. Happy Easter if you celebrate, either by bunny or whatever. Thanks for sharing my 29th with me!**


	2. Night Falls, And I'm Alone

**Thanks so much for the wonderful response to this story. I'm really glad you all are enjoying it. Here's a little more. Warnings here. That gore I mentioned...yeah.**

**Forgot to mention, I don't own the boys, the song. Nope. Nada. Just toying around with them. Oh, also have no idea if a place like this exists. If it does...yuck. So read this, close your eyes and see what it feels like for Sam. Let me know what you think.**

**Again, enjoy and have a happy Easter if yours hasn't rolled around yet. You all made my birthday wonderful!  
**

**Chapter 1: Night Falls and I'm Alone**

_**Ten days earlier…**_

Dean rolled down the window, letting the warm summer air into the car. He pulled in a breath and released it.

"What's up man?" Sam said, looking at his brother.

Dean smiled. "Nothin. Nothin. I'm just enjoyin' the summer. Wide open road, sun's shinin'. 'S warm…we're on our way to a new hunt. What more could a guy want?"

"You're… perky." Sam said, the smile Dean wore echoed on his own face.

Dean ignored him and turned up the radio, humming along with Guns-n-Roses. Sam turned his head with a chuckle and went back to researching the case.

He was still reading when he felt the car slow into a curve. "Pit stop." Dean said, pulling into a gas station. He and Sam got out of the car, stretching long legs and cracking backs before they walked into the building. Sam cut away to go to the restroom while Dean walked to the cooler and eyed the drinks, going for an iced tea, while collecting two bottles of water for later and a Sprite for Sam. He walked over to the checkout counter and paid for the drinks, two bags of M&M's and a granola bar. The woman behind the counter smiled at him, leaning over in her low cut tank top, as she reached for and rang up his purchases.

"Well, well, you do like your M&M's don'cha? Anything else, sugar?"

"Twenty dollars worth of gas." Dean handed over a credit card, leaning forward to appreciate the view she offered as she ran the card. She handed it back to him.

"You stayin' in town?"

"Sorry, just passin' through." Dean said.

She pouted, her rich red lips still turned up at the edges. "Shoot. And here I was hopin' out paths would cross again."

"Well, you never know, sweetheart. I pass through a lot of towns."

"Well, then you'll have to let me know when ya come back." She took his hand, just barely raking his skin with long burgundy nails. She turned over his hand and wrote her name and number across his palm, her fingertips sliding over his when she released him. He smiled that megawatt smile, glancing down.

"I'll see ya next time…" he glanced down, "Lena." Dean took his purchases and walked out of the store. He tossed his food on the front seat and went to the back of the car, lowering the license plate to pump gas. A black Pontiac pulled in, the big sixties something Catalina catching Dean's appraising eye as quick as the cashier did. His lips quirked at the plates, DIE 1983. He nodded to the driver and his passenger as they got out, one heading for the bathrooms around the side of the building, the other heading inside. Dean pumped the gas and got into his car, waiting on Sam. He dug out a package of the peanut M&M's and tore open the bag, sticking four of the candies in his mouth. He cracked the seal on his iced tea and washed them down.

He got back out of the car, deciding Sam had had enough time to make himself pretty. He opened the bathroom door, "Sam, get a move on. I wanna cross the Louisiana border before sunset!"

No answer. "Sammy?" Dean moved further into the room, the smell of stale urine and cheap soap assaulting his sinuses. Dean checked the stalls, and the corners, going outside and looking around the building, thinking Sam had decided to stretch his legs. Dean stepped forward, something cracking under his boot. He moved his foot and saw the familiar black and gray of Sam's phone. Dean picked it up, seeing the crack across the screen, the electronic device blinking before going dead.

Dean looked around, worry streaking through him. He never saw the source of the heavy weight that slammed into the back of his neck. He never felt the ground rushing up to meet him. He never felt himself being rolled over and dragged behind the convenience store.

Dean never saw the cashier, Lena, come out of the store and lean over him, delivering a harsh back hand before straightening and kissing the driver of the Pontiac, her eyes matching his, deep voids of black, as her ruby lips worked over his.

***

Sam groaned, his back and neck hurting instantly as consciousness returned to him. He tried to get his bearings, his vision blurry, although he realized it was dark, scarily dark, around him. "Mnn, Dean?"

Sam waited for his brother to say something, turn on the light, be a smartass about Sam falling asleep in the car…anything. Instead he was met with silence. "Dean!" Sam stood on shaky legs, belatedly realizing he was cold. As he stood up, his head cracked off a low ceiling, making his world spin. Water dripped down his hair and seeped into his collar. "Oh, what the hell?" Sam cried, his hand shooting up to just above his bowed head, where it met with the slimy feel of wet, rotting wood. He yanked his hand away from the slime and wiped it on his jeans, feeling where they had already drawn damp from his time on the floor. He shoved his hands into his pockets, finding them empty of the items he always carried, his flashlight, lighter, knife and small flask gone.

"Dean!" Sam called again, trying to get a response, to pin down his location. "Hello! Can anyone hear me?" Sam walked his way around in the darkness, waiting for his blurry vision to adjust to the near pitch black.

As he called out, his words bounced back at him, making his head pound. He reached blindly out, finally finding another slimy wall, forcing himself to drag his hand along the surface, trying to find an entrance, a light, something to give him some clue where he was.

He walked away from the wall, blindly searching for the other corner of his prison. The floor beneath his feet groaned and he lightened his steps, finally making it across the room, his back and neck protesting the position. His questing fingers found a door knob and his heart soared. He turned the knob and pulled, hands grasping at the rusty feeling metal, but the door refused to budge. Sam pulled as hard as he could, but was unable to get out. His hand slipped off the knob and he crashed to his back on the floor, his head smacking off the boards. He felt the boards beneath him shift and groan before they cracked and gave way beneath him. He felt himself falling, just before he plunged into icy water, his breath robbed from him on a _whoosh _that left him involuntarily pulling in mouthfuls of rancid water.

The jolt had him kicking for the surface of the cold water and he broke through in a wave, spluttering and gagging. Something bumped into him from behind and nearly shoved his head beneath the water again. Sam treaded water to stay on the surface, the chill seeping through to his bones and trying to freeze him solid. His sodden jacket began to pull on his arms, making it harder to swim and he shrugged out of it, missing it instantly as it was lost to him. He turned when something bumped him again, as if it was floating into him. A human body, the face just visible, and bloated beyond recognition came into his line of sight just inches from his face, a dim outline he could only make out the approximate shape of. Sam jumped back, another bump being felt as something lurked just beneath the surface. Sam shoved the rotting flesh away, the clammy, bloated faces and missing eyes, exposed bone, gray from the water, making Sam gag.

He swam past them in a panic, in the dark, having no idea how he was going to get out of the water. Bumping into three more floating bodies and dismembered limbs, Sam was hyperventilating by the time he managed to reach the side of the water filled pit. His cold hands reached up and grasped at the wall of his water filled prison and tried to pull himself up. Instead, the rotted wooden walls gave way, dirt and still more body parts caving in on him, some just bone, others fleshy and new the cold slowing decomposition to near nothing. A heavy corpse slammed into him, sending him crashing back into the murk again. He fought the corpse off of him, waves breaking over his head as it finally sank and let him free. Sam spluttered and coughed, feeling his stomach rolling. He gripped the wall again, a rock sticking out letting him finally get a firm hold. He pulled himself up, groaning and shivering until he finally managed to grasp the floor he'd fallen through. He felt someone grip his sodden shirt and pull him from the dark, disgusting place back into his original prison.

He fell to his side, curling in on himself and coughing, his stomach roiling before finally emptying itself. He vomited rancid water and bile, having nothing else to throw up. "D-d'n." Sam slurred, his eyes closing, shivers racking his frame. The person standing over him threw a moth eaten, damp blanket over him. Dark eyes watched the youngest Winchester succumb to unconsciousness, his brother's name on his lips.

***

Dean's eyes refused to open, even though he could see the red tinge on the other side of his lids, letting him know Sam had left the drapes open again. "Sam." He groaned, irritated. He threw an arm up over his face to shield them and the smell of warm leather woke him abruptly. The throb settling into his head let him know that something was wrong. His eyes popped open and he sat up too quickly, vertigo making the room spin.

"What the hell?" He cried when his eyes finally focused and the world stopped whirling. He was in a shed, lying on a pile of plastic tarpaulins. Dean made it to his feet, staggered and shot a hand to the back of his head when he felt the stickiness of dry, flaking blood holding his collar to his skin. He hissed when his fingers brushed a nasty swelling around a cut at the base of his skull. Dean dropped his hand and went to the door against the far wall, twisting the knob. The knob turned but the door didn't budge. He slammed his shoulder into the wooden surface, nearly hitting his ass when the door didn't even rock in its frame.

"Damn it!" he cursed, turning from the door and looking for something to aide his escape. His eyes finally lit on a double bit axe leaned against the corner post of the shed. He grabbed the axe and hefted it, before swinging it at the door. The blade bit deep, but didn't split the door as he'd hoped. He heard a metallic clang on the other side of the door, knowing there was something barring him in.

He pulled the axe back again and tried a different spot, the head of the axe going clear through this time. He worked the blade back through and swung again, widening the hole. Dropping the axe, he worked his arm through up to the elbow, feeling the metal brace across the door. He gripped it, the gash the axe made in the metal biting into his palm, but he lifted the brace and left it fall to the ground outside the shed. He pushed the door open and made his way towards the convenience store which he realized the shed was behind. He walked into the store, looking for the clerk. He found her laying on the floor behind the counter, blood long dried on her ruby lips, having leaked from her mouth. As Dean knelt, checking for a pulse he knew he wouldn't find, a whiff of sulfur crossed his nostrils.

"Demons." He cursed, turning from the store and running towards the Impala, which thankfully was untouched. He slid behind the wheel and fired the engine, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

"_Yeah?"_

"Josh. I need help. Sammy's gone."

"_Sammy?! Where are ya, kid?"_

Just outside Greenville, Mississippi. Headed for Shreveport and a hunt."

_Alright. I'm in Biloxi myself. I can be there by tomorrow mornin'."_

"Hurry Josh, I think somethin' bad is goin' down. There was sulfur in the store."

"_Can ya track him?" _

"Ah," Dean rubbed his pounding head, "No. Found his cell. It's busted. I spent a couple hours locked in a shed. Someone hit me from behind."

"_Look, find somewhere, hole up an' rest a bit. You can't find him alone, so just wait 'til I get there."_

"Thanks man, I think I'm gonna call Bobby though. See if he knows somethin' about a black Catalina. I saw it just before I got ambushed."

"_You say a Catalina?"_

"Yeah, why?"

"_I got passed like a bat outta hell couple days ago by a Catalina."_

"You think it's the same car?"

"_Dunno. Like I said, Dean, rest up a bit, clean up. I'll be there by sunrise."_

"Okay man. Just get your ass out here ASAP." He cut the connection with Joshua and fired the engine, pulling away from the convenience store. He flipped open his phone again and dialed his friend. "Hey Bobby."

"_What's goin' on Dean?"_

"Sammy. He's missing."

"_What?!"_

"We went into a roadside store. He hit the head and I got us some grub and gas and he never came outta the bathroom. I went to look for him and someone tried to take my head off my shoulders. Josh is on the way out to me. Listen, I need you to do something for me."

"_Name it kid."_

"See if you can find anything out about a black Pontiac Catalina. Think she's a '68. Georgia plates Delta, India, Echo, one, nine, eight, three."

"_Got it. I'll call ya."_

"Thanks, dude."

"_Dean? Ya find Sam; ya get your asses out here."_

"Gotcha." Dean snapped his phone shut, pulling the Impala into the Sunset Inn. He got out and walked into the office, seeing the clerk behind the counter thumbing through a magazine. She looked up when he walked in the door, smiling.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

Dean studied the brunette for a moment, before finally shaking his head. "I need a double room for a few days."

"Okay." She turned to the reservation book and then looked for a set of keys. "Fifty two. It's around back, last on the right. Most comfy bed is furthest from the door. It's new, hasn't been broken yet. People are kinda rough with stuff if it's not theirs." Dean distractedly handed over a credit card and signed when she handed him the receipt.

Uh…thanks."

"Just let me know if you need anything at all…sugar."

"Yeah…thanks." Dean said, walking from the office back to the Impala. He lowered his body into the seat and fired the engine, and circled the motel. He parked close to the room and went to the trunk, digging through for his duffle and the weapons bag. He grabbed Sam's bag from the trunk with his own and the bottles of water from the front seat before heading into the room.

He threw the bags on the first bed and ran a hand over his hair, walking into the bathroom. He did his best to wash the dried blood from the back of his neck, the cool water stinging the cut that turned out smaller than he'd feared. He washed his face, looking into the mirror with water dripping from his stubble and making the dark rings beneath his eyes glisten. Worry looked back at him from the glass.

***

Sam's eyes opened, the smell around him instantly making him gag. He shrunk into himself as he dry heaved, pain shooting through his abdomen. The musty, moth eaten blanket was discarded as memories slammed home in Sam's mind. He stood and lurched away from his position, shoved his way along the back wall, before collapsing, his back colliding with the moist wood. He shivered, arms coming up to protect his head as the memories assaulted him.

_Sam slapped Dean and motioned to the restrooms at the back of the store. He walked down the hall and into the bathroom, relieving himself. Sam walked to the washbasin, glancing into the mirror before he decided to wash his face. He turned on the water and stuck a hand under it, waiting until it cleared. The cool water felt good against his hand and he leaned over, splashing water on his face. It woke him up. He caught a slight whiff of iron in the water, the odor of rust. Ignoring it, he ran wet fingers back through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. He turned off the water and just reached for the paper towel dispenser when he felt solid arms close around him from behind._

"_Gah. Get off!" Sam fought, shoving backwards away from the sink, water dripping from his chin onto his chest and soaking into both his shirt and his assailant's arm. He rammed the person behind him into the wall and gasped when the abuser turned him around and slammed him into the tile wall. Sam saw stars and groaned, momentarily losing the fight against his attacker. Sam cried out when he felt a stinging pinch in the side of his neck. The dark blue tiles of the wall blurred as his legs went numb quickly followed by the rest of him. He sighed and slumped against his captor, his eyelids sagging as he struggled to stay conscious, head rolling back against the man. The man looked over Sam's lolling head into the surface of the mirror, his black eyes catching the dim overhead bathroom light and shining maliciously. Sam's eyes widened in fear before they rolled back and fell closed._

Sam's back bumped off the wall with each rapid breath he pulled in. He sat there, he didn't know how long, lost to his memories. Finally his surroundings encroached on him and his mind cleared. He lifted his head, shaking arms still protecting his face as he looked around the darkness that closed in on him. "No. Nononono." Sam whispered, his hands coning up to his face, rubbing over the accumulated muck. He couldn't see his fingers when he pulled them away from his face. He smelled rot on his flesh, felt heat burning deep within his skin. "Where am I?" Sam lowered his arms a little more, looking around the dark room, the feeling of blindness suffocating him. "God, where am I?" He finally stood, staying against the walls as he worked his way around the room again, trying to find a source of light, an escape. The floorboards groaned beneath his feet and he felt fear surge through him. Heat built within his body, the sickening weakness becoming more pronounced. His body shook and he wrapped his arms around his middle, shoulder scraping the moldy wall as he worked his way around his prison, unable to see, and struggling to commit his surroundings to his foggy memory. Sam's shuffling feet tripped over something unseen in the pitch and he fell hard, his head cracking off the boards as he hit. Something sharp bit deep into his stomach, just to the right of his navel.

*******

Dean's head tossed on the pillow ten minutes after he lay down, after having spent hours going over everything from the impending hunt to what happened in the minutes until he'd been hit. Exhaustion made him seek the bed, not wanting to, but knowing he had to rest to be at one hundred percent when his brother needed him. His eyes tightened, lines of distress aging him beyond his years as his dreams got the better of him.

_He walked into a room, deep darkness seeming to smother him. The smell of rot and mold, death and suffering, choking him as it seeped into his pores. He walked deeper into the shadows, the floorboards protesting loudly beneath his feet. Unable to see, he fiddled in his pockets for the small flashlight he always kept there, not finding it. He reached a hand out, feeling dank air ahead of him as he staggered deeper into the bowels of the chamber. _

_Finally reaching a wall, he felt the slime of rotting boards, lichen and mold beneath his fingers. He trailed his hand blindly along the wall, shuffling his booted feet as he made his way along the wall. His left foot bumped into something that gave, something soft and he turned slightly, looking down, unable to even see a shadow of what he bumped into. _

_Dean swallowed, the smell of the room now in his throat, making his stomach churn. He gradually crouched, fingers searching for the top of what he bumped into. He remained on his feet, refusing to put his knees on the spongy feeling floor. Finally his fingers nested in something soft, but greasy feeling. Dirty. The stringy surface followed a contour, cold and clammy, as Dean's fingers worked further down over. He realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that he was feeling hair. "Sam?" His word echoed around the darkness, bouncing off of something in the shadows, enough to come back at him and chill him to the bone. Dean leaned forward, feeling further along the tips of the hair, feeling as it curled around his fingers, gave way to eyebrows and clammy skin, cheekbones that felt too prominent for his brother, cold, scarily cold._

_Dean felt bile rush up his throat as he felt muck coating the skin, the flakes of mud-_stuff-_he didn't know what- chipping off beneath his fingers. He felt the bump of a mole, just where he knew it would be, horror streaking through him. He reached his other hand out and found a jaw with no effort as Sam's face stood out in his mind, every line and curve long memorized, fingers working lower, finding that point that he needed to find so desperately beneath the too cold skin. "Come on." again, his words echoed back at him, his heart sinking as he couldn't find what he was looking for. There was nothing there. Forgetting his cares, he sank to his knees and pulled his brother into his arms. "NO! NNNOOOOOOO!"_

_***_

Sam groaned, the pull of consciousness unwelcome as pain and fever seeped into his muddled awareness. He rolled onto his back, gasping as he felt something prod at his insides, a heavy, intrusive weight that gouged its way into his abdominal wall. His head pounded out a beat that matched his thundering heart feeling the lethargy of fever rolling through him.

His prison, still pitch black and smelling of mold, rotted wood and decomposing flesh seemed to close in on him. Tears leaked from the corner of his useless eyes as he prayed for his brother to kneel at his side, to pull him into his arms. He had no idea what time it was, hell, what day even. All he felt was pain, fear and an all consuming need for his big brother's presence.

He bent a knee, pulling it towards his chest in an attempt to ease the pain, stopping when he felt it twist inside him, when he felt something scrape across his shirt, as if something shifted across his abdomen as it lay heavy against him. When it moved he cried out, feeling the- _whatever_ -poking him shift and twist inside him.

He moved a hand blindly to his torso, first resting long fingers over his heart and feeling the organ slamming against his ribcage. The hand drifted lower, brushing over his ribs, his stomach before finally finding the source of his pain. His hand bumped something smooth and hard as it lay against him, a narrow part digging into his stomach like a splinter. Unable to see, he mapped the object with the pads of his fingers, truly blind in the inky black. His fingers brushed the warm oozing hole in his stomach and he gasped, breathing as deeper blackness threatened to pull him under. They closed around a cylindrical object about as big around as a dime. As his fingertips moved away from his skin and up the object by increments, his mind forming a grainy image, he found that it narrowed almost imperceptibly before widening into a knob like protrusion that wiggled beneath his fingers, his breath catching on a stifled cry of pain. He continued his quest when the pain subsided, feeling the knob turn into something that reminded him of a ball type hinge or joint. He swallowed, his breath coming faster as his fingers still moved. They roved over another joint, his skin touching another cylindrical object that ran parallel with the one he was now combing over joined to it by what felt like a block shape made up of small knobs and parts. The distance between them narrowed as they joined with the blocky shape.

The picture fully formed in his mind and he gagged, grabbing the object impaling him and ripping it away from him. He never bothered to stifle his scream as he threw the skeletal hand into the darkness, his cry drowning out the clacking sound it made as it hit the wall and clattered to the floor. Tears coursed down his filthy cheeks and he sobbed, crab crawling backwards until his back slammed into the wall. He pressed his filthy hands to an already inflamed wound to staunch the welling blood.

"DDEEEEEAAAAAANNNNNNN!" Sam screamed, begging for help, begging for his brother, tears falling from his eyes as a little bit of him cracked beyond repair.

***

Dean sat up on his bed with a cry, the knock on his door jarring him from his dreams of Sam, of the darkness.

He wiped uncontrolled tears from his cheeks, his eyes clearing as they fell on the bedside clock, the digital glow reading four a.m. The knock sounded again, more persistent. "Dean!" The door rocked in it's frame, threatening to burst in. Dean slid from the bed and crossed the room opening it to reveal a panicked looking Joshua, his leg stopping mid air as he moved to kick the door again.

"Damn, boy!" The hunter said, dropping his massive booted foot and brushing his long hair back behind his shoulders. The retired military man shoved his way through the door, his duffel in hand, body nearly filling the door frame as Dean moved aside, then shut it behind him. "You look like hell warmed over. You get any sleep at all, Ace?"

"Well, what can I say. Head injury… dreams weren't exactly 'bout my own personal Hooters girls."

Joshua looked around the room, seeing papers, weapons and Dean's jacket and flannel scattered around the room. "What blew up in here?" Dean grabbed his flannel shirt and put his tanned arms in the sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows.

Dean threw the papers aside at the table and turned to the dresser where the coffee maker sat. He slapped the pouch of coffee into the basket and filled the carafe with water from the bathroom, dumping it into the water basin. He flipped the switch and ran a hand back through his disheveled hair as the hunter dropped his bag on the floor near the untouched bed where Sam's pack sat, the smooth sides of the duffel and square bottom letting him know that, like always, the boy folded all of his clothes and there was a heavy book, an actual knowledgeable read, packed at the bottom beneath the clothes and the knife with the curved blade that he himself had given Sam for his sixteenth birthday.

"Look, I didn't have a real good night, so can ya stow the jackass for an hour or so?"

**Looks like both the boys had a bad night. I'll post more on Monday, after I get my greenhouse ready to go for spring. Leave me a review if you liked the chapter!**


	3. Blind, Oh, Now I See

**A/N: You guys! You all are so awesome! Thanks for the continued response to this. I'm really glad you're all enjoying it**.

**Again, warnings for a little bit of Sammy abuse. Dean starts to put things together in this chapter. It might get him closer to his brother.  
**

**Chapter 2: Blind, Oh, Now I See**

"Alright Ace." Joshua said softly, although he didn't back down from his young friend. Dan stared at him angrily before his eyes shifted downward.

"Sorry Josh. I'm sorry. It's just…that kid, he's my responsibility. Seems like he always has been and the thought of losin' him… the nightmare I just had…it's killin' me."

"Y'don't have to explain nothin' to me, Dean. I went through Storm with guys I thought of as brothers, hell, half o' them young enough they shoulda been thinking' 'bout gettin' their first girls instead of makin' it through the night."

Dean poured a cup of coffee, raking a hand through his spiky hair, before he drank the steaming brew, wishing it was stronger. Joshua poured himself a cup and pulled out the chair beside where Dean stood, putting a hand on his shoulder until he sat. The older hunter sat opposite.

"Tell me 'bout what happened."

"We got wind of a hunt in Shreveport. Voodoo priest goin' postal on the town because they refused to bury his son in hallowed ground because he committed suicide. We were headed that way, gonna kick back after the hunt. Y'know, Mardi Gras, women, booze, some pool, the whole shebang."

"Then what?"

"Like I said, we stopped at a convenience store just outside Greenville. Sammy hit the head while I scored some grub. I went back to the car and waited for him. He was takin' forever so I went to get him. He was nowhere to be found, I left the john and started lookin' for him. Found his cell phone, hell, I stepped on it. Then someone clocked me from behind. Woke up in a shed, had to chop my way out with an axe. Went back inside the store and found the cashier dead. Found sulfur too."

"Okay, what didja notice that was out of the ordinary…from before Sam went missin' until now?" Joshua put the motel notepad and a pen down on the table in front of Dean. "Write it down, put the pieces together."

"Doncha think I've been racking my brain about that already?!"

"Well, do it again!" Dean sat up in his chair, tucking his fingers against his mouth before reaching for the pen, staring at the notepad, his eyes working back and forth as he thought over every moment again, with a new focus.

"Well, the woman at the store…she was odd. Flirty, but odd. She talked like she knew me, about me likin' M&M's. Seemed real interested in whether I was passin' through or stayin' in town." Dean wrote down her name, _CS_, for _convenience store_. "She mentioned she'd like it if our paths crossed again." He drew a cross to symbolize the statement.

"Good, what else?"

"The Catalina." He wrote _Cat. _"She was a '68. Black. Her plates…" Dean scrawled _DIE 1983_ in big block letters. "The shed, that freakin' axe was just leaning against the wall in plain sight. Thank god."

"And?"

"I came here 'cause it's close." _Motel, _got scrawled onto the page. "The receptionist, when I checked in, she gave me the key to this room. Said that the bed furthest from the door was most comfortable. Said it hadn't been broken yet." Dean dropped the pen and bolted from his chair. "Sugar! They both called me sugar. Same tone!" Dean ran from the room, around to the front of the building and all but kicked the door in as he barreled through it. The woman looked up from where she sat behind the counter, pale, hair disheveled, scared.

Dean grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her to her feet. "Where's my brother, bitch?!"

She gasped, tears falling from her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go! I didn't do anything!!"

"Bull! You're in on this! Tell me where he is or I'll send you straight to hell!" Dean released her and reached for his gun as she fell to her knees, sobbing. Joshua grabbed Dean from behind, restraining him as the big hunter took his gun and tucked it into his own belt.

"Damnit Dean! Stop it! She doesn't know anything!"

"No! She's got Sammy somewhere!" Dean fought to get at the sobbing girl.

Joshua wrapped an arm around Dean's torso, squeezing tight, pinning the young hunter's arms to his chest. "STOP Dean!" Josh barked the order and Dean obeyed the tone instantly, part of Joshua still hating John Winchester for that immediate submission.

"Christo." Joshua said softly, in Dean's ear, but loud enough for the girl to hear too."

She leaned forward, sobbing. "Don't hurt me, pl-please." She never flinched, her eyes never turned.

"God." Dean deflated, turning from the office. Joshua turned and followed the young hunter, catching his arm and spinning him halfway around the corner of the motel.

"Dean, you saw her, she _was _possessed. She's a wreck. You were right. You were right."

"I almost killed her."

"Dean, listen to me. We're on the right track. We just have to get outta here, put our heads together and…"

Dean's cell phone rang, the musical tone building in volume as he jerked it from his pocket.

"Yeah Bobby?"

_"__Got the info on the Catalina, Dean."_

Dean took off, all but sprinting for the motel room. Joshua followed closely, waiting until Dean wrote down what Bobby had to say. Dean closed his phone and it landed on the table with a clatter from his boneless fingers. He leaned forward and dropped his head, shoulders slumped.

"What is it boy? What'd Bobby say?"

***

Dark eyes watched from the pitch as their captive's head drooped, his sobs finally quieting as he gave in to a fevered, restless slumber.

"_If he dies father will strip our skin from our flesh."_

"_I know that. I'm just enjoying his suffering for a few moments. It's so _so_ wonderful coming from a Winchester…almost delectable." The black eyes glistened with mirth._

"_There will be lots more to come as he cracks. He cannot be allowed to die."_

"_I understand." _A thought rearranged the room silently around the sleeping captive, the next piece in the dismantlement of Sam Winchester was put into place, leaning against the same wall, not even five feet from him, silent and unmoving, and waiting to be found.

A hand grabbed Sam by the ankle, startling him from his fevered nightmares. A sharp yank had him sliding down the wall to lay on his back. Sam tried to kick free but a firm hand smacked down on the wound, digging in. Sam screamed and stilled, the hand loosening instantly.

"Why… you…doin' this?" Sam panted out, trying to see his assailant through the darkness with eyes leaking tears of pain. "Who are you?"

He felt air on his abdomen as his shirt was pushed up roughly, the fibers pulling at ragged edges and clotting blood. "Wha?" His neck arched, muscles cording, word choking off on a scream as something burned through him, the smell of charred flesh replacing the smell of rot lodged in his nose as his chest heaved. Finally oblivion overtook him, welcomed wholeheartedly.

"_There. He won't succumb to his own stupidity." _

"_Leave him. The next part of his torture is in place."_

The eyes disappeared into the pitch, leaving the youngest Winchester alone in his prison once more.

***

Sam woke, his empty stomach making his journey to conscious an abrupt one as it cramped viciously. He moaned, putting a hand just below his sternum. He eased into a sitting position, leaning against the moldy wall. "Hello?!" He stood, leaning shakily against the wall. "I know someone's here!" Sam stayed close to the surface, carefully avoiding the awful hole in the floor. "Please…let me go!" Not getting a response, he tried something else. "I gotta use the bathroom!" His stomach cramped again. "Can I at least have something to eat? It's obvious you want me for something, you probably should at least give me some food!"

Sam's hand curled into a fist and he pounded on the wall, the boards squelching beneath his hand. "DAMNIT, SOMEONE TALK TO ME!!" Sam groaned again, hunching, until he made up his mind to do something about his needs. He moved away from the wall, towards where he remembered the door being, the hole in the floor that he fell through. As he felt he was nearing the hole he crouched, feeling the floor with grimy hands. Finally finding the splintery edge of the abyss and stopped, standing up. He relieved himself, using the hole for a makeshift toilet. Sam zipped his pants and turned, making his way back to the wall. He began casing his prison, both for something to do and to look again for an escape. Every few minutes he pounded on the wall and bellowed, trying to get a response out of his captive. He turned and began walking back along the same wall. "CAN I GET SOME WATER?!"

A fist snapped out of the darkness and clipped Sam in the mouth, splitting his upper lip deeply. Blood spurted from the wound and down over his chin. Rough hands grabbed his jaw and tipped his head back painfully, ramming something into his abused mouth. Foul liquid poured over his tongue and down his throat as he spluttered, gagging as the rotten egg taste of the liquid made his empty stomach churn. It was pulled away and Sam's head was shoved down, his chin slamming into his sternum and he bit his tongue. He fell to his knees, gagging as bile and fetid water rushed back up his throat. He vomited, acid burning his wounded mouth. He felt a boot drill into his hip, kicking him over onto his back. His eyes watered from the pain and he felt his jaw grabbed again. A harsh whisper, the voice indistinguishable as anyone he knew, rasped in the darkness.

"That'll teach you to ask politely next time." A laugh tortured his ears. "Not that there will be one." Sam's head was slammed into the boards and the darkness grew blacker instantly.

**Oops, poor Sammy! I'll have more on Wednesday. Leave a review!**


	4. Push On A Shove

**A/N: Things start to go a little more downhill for Sammy in this chapter. Enjoy!**

**I also forgot to mention, I have cover art for this one up on my profile. It's not the best, since it cut the picture off on Sam's side, but just imagine the face he made when Mary touched him in the panic room and you've got it.**

**Thanks so much also, for all the wonderful reviews. I will respond to every one of them but I thought you'd want an update first, and I'm on a bit of a time crunch since I took my afternoon and went for a walk. So between cooking supper and getting my husband off to work at 2 a.m. on the day to come, I figured I'd just post.  
**

**Chapter 3: Push On a Shove**

"Dean. What'd Bobby say?"

Dean sighed. "The Catalina was stolen from Upstate New York three months ago. You said you saw it a couple days ago, I saw it when Sammy…" He ran a hand back through his hair, spinning away from where he leaned on the table. "There's nothin' else on it." He pulled back a fist and punched the motel wall, a spider web of cracks forming around his knuckles where they rested against the drywall. "Nothin!"

"Listen to me Dean." Joshua said, his big hands closing on the younger hunter's shoulders and turning him. "Hey!"

Dean met his eyes on the tone. "We'll find it _and_ we'll find your brother." Dean nodded, his eyes finally shifting away from Joshua's.

"I gotta find him." Dean murmured. Skirting Josh, Dean sat down at the table again, pulling the notepad to him. He left the pen rocking on the table top, the clatter of plastic on wood as the pen rolled was loud in the sudden silence of the room. Finally snagging the pen, Dean overlaid some of what he'd written with a bolder layer of ink. He stopped, looking at the design of the motel's name at the top of the notepad.

"Josh, you see this?"

"See what, Ace?"

"The logo for the motel." Dean outlined the sun's rays with his pen, turning the orange edges black. He filled in the tips, following the slight double curve of the longer rays, keeping the small points sharp tipped. The Sunset Inn logo soon was obscured as he drew a hasty pentagram beneath the curved inner ring of the sun.

"Devil's trap?"

"Not just any." Dean yanked the collar of his black tee aside, revealing a still new tattoo. The skin around it was slightly dry, peeled back around the edges of the ink to reveal new skin. The same symbol on Dean's chest was reflected back at Josh from the motel notepad.

"The sulfur, the possession. Five-two, the room number…Nineteen eighty three. The year Sammy was born. The day. The crack about the furthest bed from the door and not being broken. The tats. It all adds up."

"What are you talkin' 'bout, Dean?"

"Demons." Dean all but whispered. "Demons have Sammy."

***

Sam woke with a groan, his head throbbing. Memories of being assaulted in the pitch black surfaced and he fought his way to sitting, his abdomen burning, stomach roiling as he kicked his way in an awkward crab crawl to the wall. The rustle of fabric greeted his ears as his back smacked into the mildewed wood.

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?!" He was answered by silence. "Please!"

The feeling of being watched from the abyss around him making him feel like he was wearing a bulls eye.

"_It's time for the next part of father's plans for him."_

"_I know that."_

"_Stop dallying then."_

The voice came out of the darkness, making Sam jump. Gruff. Familiar.

"Sammy." Sam straightened, wanting to believe so bad that it was his brother. For real. His head felt like it was under pressure, like he was going down a steep hill and his ears needed to pop. The voice held a muffled resonance echoing around the chamber, bouncing off things in the dark.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Dean, I can't see anything. Too dark for too long. What…where are you?"

"Right in front of ya Sammy."

"Thank god. Get me outta here man. I think I'm goin' crazy." Sam stood on shaky, weak legs, the heat of fever blazing through him and making him sag against the wall. Sam reached out a pleading hand, stretching it into the darkness, reaching for his big brother.

"You're not going anywhere." A foreign voice rang out in the chamber, making Sam jump. A muzzle flash blinded Sam completely. He heard Dean's voice pained cry, heard something slam into the wall beside him before he heard fabric sliding down the wall.

"NNOOOO!" Sam turned in the direction of the sounds, halos of light dancing in front of his useless eyes as he sank to his knees. "Dean! No, no man!" Sam reached out, fingers sliding over familiar leather, wide shoulders. He brought his hands together towards center, the leather parting. Sam's long fingers tangled in a small leather cord, nails catching on bronze horns he didn't have to see to know very, very well. "Dean, talk to me. Are you hit?"

"S-sammy?" The voice came from in front of him, from the blackness that kept him from seeing his brother. Sam's hands played over Dean's chest, what he guessed to be Dean's ever present black tee. He felt Dean's ragged intake of breath when Sam's fingers brushed over something sticky and warm.

"Oh god. No, Nono!"

"S'm." Dean fell into Sam's arms and he caught him, running blind fingers over his brother's face, through his hair. Sam lifted his head, trying desperately to see through the darkness. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!!!" Sam turned his attention back to his brother. "No, Dean! Hang on. Please hang on. Don't leave me." Sam pressed Dean back to the wall, applying pressure to the gut wound.

"S'mmy."

"Shh. Shh."

"M'okay."

"You've been shot. We're god knows where, held by who knows what. I can't see shit and I'm starting to get a little nuts here, man. I think we're far from okay." Sam said, his voice getting higher and slightly hysterical as he ended on a choked giggle.

"'M here now. 'Sgonna… beokay." Dean slurred.

The dark eyes watched from the corner of the chamber as his captive sat shoulder to shoulder with the hitchhiker claimed by the Catalina's bumper in the trip south. The man's face was torn to the bone, one eye gone. Road rash had burned holes in the man's shirt, in his abdomen. Breath was long gone from the corpse that the youngest Winchester was talking to, listening to responses in his head and even huffing a tense laugh before answering his brother's jibe with the usual "Jerk." The dark eyes sparkled with both mirth and disdain before he turned and left the room.

The man walked through an open doorway, into a room flickering with candlelight from a table along the wall. A chalice rested in the center of a circle of crimson, nearly overflowing with the same liquid. A woman stood facing the alter, her voice lilting in a melodious chant. She turned as the man walked up to stand beside her, black eyes meeting his own.

"_He's pathetic. So easy to ruin. And yet still father's favorite?"_

"_It's time for the next phase." _The woman turned and left the man standing in front of the blood covered alter.

She stood in the darkness, watching Sam as he still carried on a conversation in hushed tones and silences. The illusion had full hold and she smiled. It was time to break Sam Winchester into pieces too small to ever pull together.

She moved forward silently, unfailingly grabbing Sam by the hair. She yanked him to his feet, slamming him into the wall. Her other hand clasped his throat and picked him up, feet kicking at her as he tried to fight, gasping for air. The door opened, blinding him and shocking him enough to make him stop fighting. The door slammed and plunged him into blackness again. He grasped the wrist at his throat, trying to dig in as the rings of light danced in front of his eyes and began to dim as his air was cut off.

Suddenly he was released, propelled across the chamber as he was thrown. He landed hard, the wound in his abdomen splitting open again. He felt hands on him as he coughed, trying to stay conscious. His eyes cleared, the black going back to just that…black. No stars, no rainbows of light, no shadows. Pressure built between his ears again, and he heard Dean cry out in pain, hearing the unmistakable sound of a fist smacking off flesh.

"Gah! No! D-DEAN!" Sam cried, body racked with pain, writhing as he lifted his head, turning in the direction of the sound, hand clutching at his burning abdomen. He listened helplessly as the fist continued to pummel his brother in the darkness.

"S-stop!" Sam tried to push himself up, his back screaming in pain, his wounded stomach burning. "Guh…unh… Dean! Stop hurting him! Tell me what you want! I'll do it. J-Just stop hurting us!!"

"Oh, Sammy. We don't want anything from you we don't already have." Sam heard just before his head was lifted by the hair and slammed into the floor once again.

***

Dean's phone rang and he strode across the motel room from where he was pacing, snatching it on the second _ta-tadada-tadadum _of _Back in Black._

"Yeah Bobby? Tell me you got somethin'?"

"_Demon sign Dean. Shreveport, Louisiana. Plotted 'em on a map. It's a pentagram, center of it is a church where a priest raped and killed thirteen nuns a hundred years ago. It's the sign we're lookin' for. Priest's name was Samuels. Makes just enough sense for the friggin' demons."_

"We were headed to a hunt in Shreveport. What the hell?"

"_There's violent electrical storms goin' on now. News says power's out, roads closed. Past six days, there's been three thunderstorms, roads flooded…"_

"Don't care. I'm gettin' him back!"

"Dean, we need a plan." Joshua said, reaching out for the phone to talk to Bobby. Dean handed it to him, pacing away from the hunter. He reached for the pistol on the bed and began systematically breaking it down, his hands moving on their own, every move long memorized. He could have done it in his sleep. He glared at Josh.

"Yeah, you know what the plan is? Go in hot, send some demonic sonsabitches straight back to hell and get Sammy away from them!"

Josh turned his attention to the phone. "Okay Singer, tell me everything you know 'bout what we're dealin' with."

"_Ya mean besides a hot headed Winchester?" _Bobby snarked. Josh looked at Dean, watching as the young hunter stared at the motel wall, his hands still roving over the pistol.

***

Sam made his way through the darkness, head aching, back to where he thought his brother was. He felt for the wall, finally brushing it with his finger tips. He crouched, reaching blind into the obscurity. His hands brushed short hair and he sat, feeling leather brush his shirt. "Dean?" Hearing nothing he reached out, feeling along his brother's face, feeling wet skin, rough patches like abrasions, a bit of skin hanging loose over his cheekbone. "Dean, wake up!" Still not getting a response, Sam's hands roved blind over his brother, feeling damp slime on his jacket, his shirt, his jeans. "Okay, okay." Sam soothed, wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulders and pulled his brother to him. "You're gonna be alright. Just hang on, you're gonna be alright."

**Just what is Sammy seeing? And is it enough to break him? And is hotheaded Dean going to get himself into more trouble? Leave a review! I'll try to update again on either Saturday or Monday since I have those two days off work.  
**


	5. Match on a Fire

**A/N: Hey everyone. Yeah, I know I'm slipping on replying to reviews, but I'm just not finding the time. I hope you can all forgive me and just enjoy the chapter. I'm kind of having a bad weekend, my Grandma died. Anyhow, I know too I promised an update Saturday, but that just didn't happen. So I hope you'll enjoy and drop me a line. I love to hear what you're thinking about this one. Vonnie, I'll email you the cover art, sweetie. **

**Chapter 4: Match On A Fire**

Thunder cracked on the heels of a lightening bolt, the sky fading back from purple to starless black. Joshua and Dean made their way to the old church. The steeple was crumbling, patches of the shingles that lined the peak falling down, exposing supports and roof trusses. Joshua laid eyes on the Catalina, gun ready as they neared the car, walking in slight crouches to keep to the confines of the shadows. Dean rounded the front end of the black car, seeing dents and scratches littering the front end of the vehicle. Blood splattered in the grill and radiator, pieces of fabric and what looked like dark leather was caught in the area around the emblems and hood latch which was slightly sprung. Dean motioned to Joshua, and the older hunter moved, leading the way into the church. Thunder disguised the squeaking of the broken hinges as Josh waited until the rumble was at it's loudest to open the warped mahogany doors. They cleared the foyer, sweeping the area with shotguns.

Dean moved ahead of Josh, going down the side aisle around broken down pews. Worn, rotting prayer rails with stained burgundy velvet peaked out from under pieces of the cathedral ceiling that had fallen. Dean pulled a white grease marker from his pocket and set about drawing various sigils on the floor, walls and the doors of the church, making sure that the demons could not escape. Joshua took the marker and was finishing the last of the signs while Dean pulled a slightly rotted alter cloth from the table on the platform and threw it down over a devil's trap, obscuring it from sight. Dust rose in lazily drifting motes, highlighted by another lightning bolt and Dean glanced at the wall when the light revealed a shadow. He turned abruptly, leveling the gun on a woman who stepped out of the hall and into the room with him.

"Whoa. That's close enough, sister."

"How nice of you to join us, Dean." She said, her eyes turning black, reflecting obsidian when lightning lit up the church through the broken out windows. She looked at the triangle contained in a circle that locked her inside the church. "Nice touch with the graffiti."

"Where's Sam?"

"Tucked away somewhere." She said, her hip cocked as she stared at the hunters before her. "Don't worry. We've treated him _real_ well."

"I bet." Joshua said.

"Where is he, bitch?!" Dean barked.

She made a _tsk-tsk _sound. "Now, now, mind your tongue. After all, you are in a church."

"Yeah, one where you just happen to have free reign."

"Thanks to that priest a hundred years ago. The one who raped and murdered thirteen nuns on the solstice." She scrunched up her face and clapped her hands like a little girl getting her favorite toy. "That was just the best gift a girl could've asked for. Gave us such a comfy place to keep little Sammy."

"Give him back and we'll let you go."

"Oh, as if we buy that." a male voice said from the shadows. Joshua stepped in front of Dean just as the man stepped from the darkness, waving an arm. The older hunter grunted as he was flung into the sanctuary wall. Joshua's gun was ripped from his hands. He landed face down on the mildewed carpet. Dean ran to his side and helped him up, slinging his arm around his shoulders to support him. They backed away, Dean's hand holding a shotgun. The demons closed in on them, the female stepping on the alter cloth. She stopped when she was snared in the trap beneath her. The male stopped short, skirting the cloth and the sigil beneath. Dean fired the shotgun, Joshua taking his own weight and stepping away. The shotgun cracked in the dim interior, just as thunder rumbled, the combined noises deafening the hunters.

"Go! Kill him!" the woman screamed as the man staggered under the gun blast but didn't go down. The demon tossed Dean, halfheartedly, letting the hunter roll unharmed back to his feet. The man skirted them and headed for a door, leading deeper into the back of the church, towards the confessional. Joshua ran at him, tackling the demon into the wall. The man landed against the triangular sigil at the entrance to the hall. It worked, sticking the demon to the wall like a bug on flypaper.

"_Regna Terrae, cantate deo, psallite domino, qui vehitur per calus caelos antiquos!" _The demons shook, a high pitched sound coming from the female. The male fought against the trap, his eyes glossy black as the demon manifested.

Thunder shook the church's crumbling foundation, lightning cracking across the sky and Dean's chant stopped, stumbling as the thunder directly overhead made it feel like an earthquake in the confines of the church. The wall cracked, through the center of the trap and the male demon got free, striding to Dean and gripping his throat, lifting him from the floor.

"_Ecce, edit vocem suam, vocem potentem: Akinoscite potential dei! Majestas ejus, Et potentia ejus In nubibus." _The demon holding Dean began to shake as Joshua picked up seamlessly where Dean choked off. _"Timendus est dues e sancto suo, dues Israel; ipse potentiam datet robur populo suo benedictus dues." _The demon seized, dropping Dean who landed on his hands and knees, and the hunter rasped out the last words in tandem with Joshua.

"_Gloria Patri!"_

Simultaneous screams echoed over the thunder and lightning, black smoke pouring from both the humans as the demons were banished. Two corpses fell where they stood, long dead.

"Ace! Ya alright?" Joshua asked, crouching at his side as he helped Dean sit back on his haunches. Dean rubbed at his throat, pulling in a breath and nodding.

"Yeah. Let's find Sammy and get the hell outta here."

Josh looked towards the dead man. "It was headed for the back stairs. This place has a basement, caretakers quarters which leads to catacombs beneath. Goes back to before they started using above ground mausoleums because of flooding."

"That's gotta be where they're keeping him." Dean stood and headed for the door.

"Dean, wait!" Joshua called, spinning Dean when he caught him by the jacket sleeve. "You gotta be ready for this, man. It's pitch black down there, wet and moldy. Like a cross between the bottom of the bayou and a sewer. Caretakers chosen by the church were usually blind men because sighted men went insane after too long down there."

"All the more reason to get him the hell outta here, now." Dean jerked his sleeve free of the hunter's hand and shoved his way through the door. He pulled his flashlight from his pocket and turned it on, the beam finding damp, moss laden stairs. He followed them down, his gun and the light trained ahead as he searched the shadows for traps, other demons. Joshua covered him from three steps behind, his gun safely aimed over Dean's head as he took a slower, but consistent, pace behind him. They reached the bottom of the stairs, the smell of rot seeping through a water stained door. Dean fought back bile and motioned for Joshua to stop with an upraised fist. Dean smacked the padlock with the butt of his gun, the screws in the hasp pulling out of the wet wood. He hit it again and the lock and catch fell to the floor. He kicked them aside, turning the rusted knob with a squeak and shoved the door open, flashlight failing to breach the darkness.

"Stay here."

"Dean…."

"No Josh. It's Sammy. Stay here."

"Alright."

Dean stepped through the low doorway into a damp chill that seeped into his bones and made chills skitter across his flesh. The short hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He crossed the flashlight over his pistol, aiming both into the darkness. "No wonder the caretakers went nuts." He muttered as the shadows closed in, turning to pitch darkness as Joshua's light refused to shine inside the doorway.

Dean felt the sponginess of the boards beneath his feet as he stepped further into the room. His flashlight cut through about the first three feet of pitch, bright light illuminating greenish gray boards. Dean heard a small noise and moved the light in the direction of the sound, a red eyed rat darting back into the darkness. "Sonuva…" He lifted the light higher, not wanting to see any more vermin, imagining them crawling on Sam…biting. "God."

_Dean woke, breathing heavily as he slid from the lumpy bed. That same dream again, his baby Sammy lost in the dark, crying and no matter how far or fast he ran, Dean's five year old legs just couldn't get him to his brother. Dean walked across the bedroom, hearing his brother's whimpers. He pulled the short stool closer to his brother's borrowed crib and climbed up the two steps, crawling inside the crib. Something furry brushed his bare foot and Dean saw mice crawling all over his crying brother. "Daddy! DADDY!" Dean cried, hearing his father's grunt to alertness through the paper thin wall between him and where his father slept on the couch. John's thundering footsteps came into the bedroom. _

"_Dean?" John stepped up to the crib where Dean's head and shoulders were over the rails, Sammy clutched as high in his arms as he could without upsetting his balance and dropping the wailing ten month old. John saw the gray furry bodies scampering over Dean's feet, scratching him, Dean's legs shaking so badly he could barely stand._

Dean's knees shook as he felt a rat scamper over his boot, breaking him free of the memories. He kicked the rat, the small animal giving a shrill screech as it bounced off the wall in the darkness. He heard a sound across the room, the rustle of fabric, drowned out by his breathing and the creak of the boards beneath his feet.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his pounding heart finally hoping he'd found his brother and that hope making him unable to stay silent. The beam didn't shine far enough into the corner so Dean stepped forward, the boards beneath his feet creaking and protesting the poor distribution of his weight as he remained hunched to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling. Water dripped on the back of his head, coursing through his short hair and down his neck, following his spine and sending chills and a feeling of disgust through him. He stepped forward again, stopping short as the wood beneath his left foot gave way and he plunged through up to his knee. He hissed as the rough splinters gouged through his denim and scratched at the joint. He shone the flashlight down and broke off the sharp point, pulling his leg back up as he crouched on somewhat safer boards around the hole.

Dean shone the flashlight down the hole, seeing still water, murky and shadowy. He leaned over and looked closer, the shapes floating in the water resembling something familiar. He gagged, pulling quickly back from the hole as the smell of rotting flesh and rancid water burned into his lungs. He gagged again, the smell coating his nostrils and mouth, tasting it as his stomach gave up the battle and bile rushed up his throat. He leaned to the side and vomited, knowing that if something was here it heard him when he went through the floor, so there was no longer any need for stealth. Finally, when his heaving stomach settled by degrees, he heard the sweetest sound… Sam's small whimper, the one he'd heard hundreds of times when they were kids.

Dean straightened, the beam of light shooting in the direction of the sound, finally falling on his brother. Sam shied away from the beam, crying out in pain as Dean caught the tight clenching of his eyelids against the glare, the redness of them in the chalkiness of his face. Dean dropped the light to illuminate the floor near his brother and not blind him while still watching as Sam turned his head into the object at his side, a leather clad shoulder.

"No, don't hurt us! Please! Dean, don't let them take me! Don't let them take me again!" He clung to the arm in shadows, his words a low slurred moan, that Dean's light couldn't quite penetrate. The hunter moved forward again, crouched low, slowly, so as not to frighten his brother. Sam pulled his legs back, trying to move further away from the light, away from the stranger, and closer into the leather at his side. Dean's light finally fell on the object as Sam whimpered and pulled closer to it, the thing sliding sideways into the beam. A rotting, still fleshy head connected to the shoulders beneath the leather, gray and covered with greenish lichen and bits of cartilage and tissue, shadowed Sam's face as he tried to hide between it and the beam. The skeleton, Dean saw was clothed in a dark leather jacket, tee shirt, jeans and boots, all barely hanging on, half rotted and not concealing the rattling of bones, and squelching of rotted meat as Sam's movements jostled it.

"Sam?"

"No…Don't hurt us!" Sam grabbed the skeleton and kicked away from Dean with more strength and fear than Dean could have imagined. "Leave us alone! I won't let you hurt him again." Dean shone the light slightly higher, catching more of Sam's face in the beam. Sam's eyes watered profusely, his pupils like pinpricks, the contraction evidence of being long deprived of light. Dirt caked Sam's face, mud like in the fissures of his chapped lips and the lines of pain and distress around his eyes and mouth. Darker shadows on his face and neck showed Dean that his little brother was covered with bruises. His jaw and chin had a dark layer of better than week old stubble, his usual deep reddish brown, and the reason Sam never let it grow. His cheek bones, even with the forming beard were more prominent than Dean remembered.

"Hey, Sammy, shh. I don't know what happened to you but I'm right here." Dean put his shaking hand to his own chest and slowly moved closer to his distressed brother. "I'm right here."

"No. Another trick…" Sam growled, leaning the corpse tenderly back against the wall of the chamber. "You want me, fine, but I'll be dead before you lay a hand on him again."

"Sammy, that's not me! I don't know what happened to you, what the demons did to you…."

"Demons?" Sam's head shook, shadowed by the flashlight beam Dean shone on his chest, like standing in front of headlights in the darkness. Dean could just see the tips of his lank hair and glistening eyes, shining with a feral quality that worried him. "No! You're the demon!" Sam launched at Dean, taking him hard to the floor only feet from the hole that led to the flooded catacombs below. Dean felt the boards give, throwing out an arm and gripping something hard yet flexible beneath his hand, feeling leather and laces. He'd grabbed the rotting corpse's boot. Dean pulled, at the same time Sam reared back to punch, upsetting his brother's tenuous balance. He managed to get them away from the breaking floor as another board splintered, falling with a splash to the fetid water below.

A flashlight beam shone in Sam's face and he cried out, the sound cut off abruptly as the butt of a pistol came down on his head. Sam crumpled at Dean's side.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, sitting up and reaching for his unconscious brother, pulling him against his chest. "God, he's burnin' up!"

"C'mon Dean. Let's get'im outta here."

Dean pulled Sam closer when Joshua leaned in. "I got 'im."

"Dean, there's no way you're gonna be able to carry him up those stairs. We gotta get him somewhere we can see to find out how bad this is." Dean looked at the shadow of his brother, even though he was unconscious, still not shining the light directly on his face.

"Alright." Dean handed Sam to Joshua who picked him up over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Josh bench pressed Sam easily as he stood, powerful legs straightening beneath the added weight. Dean readied his gun, but followed Joshua out of the chamber and up the creaky, slippery stairs ready to catch Sam if Josh lost his footing.

They made it to the ground floor of the church, the lightening sky showing through the windows, through the holes in the roof. Dean's eyes were glued to his brother's form, seeing filthy clothing, tattered and smudged with blood and god knows what. The smell of rotted flesh came off of Sam in waves, hair hanging with something stringy like moss. Dean felt bile rush up his throat which he forced down, wanting desperately to just get his brother safe.

They made it to the Joshua's big black truck. "Get in Ace, I'll hand 'im to ya." Dean climbed into the crew cab truck, taking Sam from Joshua's arms, laying him across his lap and tucking his feet into the foot well. He leaned over his brother to hand off the shotgun he still carried. The smell wafting from Sam had Dean gagging again. He pushed through and pulled Sam closer while Josh shut the back door. He felt the heat coming off his brother in waves, pale face patched with spots of color high on his cheeks, the filth broken up by streaks of sweat.

"Just hang on Sammy. I gotcha now." Dean whispered as Joshua pulled out.

**A/N: Well, they got him back. What's next? I don't know when I'll be able to update, but will shoot for at least one chapter later this week. **


	6. Tears on a River

**A/N: Thanks so much for keeping me in your thoughts concerning my Grandma. I'm so grateful to have you all in my corner. Anyway, it is done, except for cleaning out her things and getting the house ready to rent. **

**Anyway, here is another chapter. They start to deal with the repercussions of Sam's time in the tomb. Hope you enjoy it!  
**

**Chapter 5: Tears On A River**

Joshua pulled the truck around to the motel room they'd secured before Sam's rescue. The Impala sat, gleaming dully under the light from the doorway. Joshua slid from the driver's seat and opened the back, taking Sam from Dean. The oldest Winchester slid from the seat and pulled his pistol, walking up to the motel room and clearing it before motioning for Joshua to bring Sam inside.

"He's really burnin' up. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and clean 'im up while we're gettin' his temp down." Josh said, walking into the room, Sam across his shoulders.

"Yeah." Dean put his pistol on the table in the corner of the room and went to the bathroom, running cool water into the bathtub. As the water was running, he came back into the bedroom and unpacked some clothing from Sam's bag, clean boxers, a tee and sleep pants. He walked them into the bathroom, laying them neatly folded on the toilet seat. He walked back to the bedroom. Dean followed Josh into the bathroom and together the two of them removed Sam's shoes and lowered him fully clothed into the half full tub. Sam's back arched, his eyes flying wide open as he tried to fight his way out of the tub.

"Whoa, easy Sam." Sam's blue greens were wide, glassy with fear and fever. Tears streamed from them, washing dirt from his face, the droplets falling into the tub to be dissipated in the torrent of Sam's splashing. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and held him down, tears building in his own greens as Sam fought, whimpering and crying, all the while Dean was soothingly muttering in his brother's ear. He finally stilled, too exhausted to fight, and he just sobbed with his head buried in Dean's neck while Dean took off the filthy, sodden over shirt. "Okay Josh, I can get him. Call Bobby, let him know we got Sammy."

Dean used a washcloth to gently clean Sam's arms, face and hair. He ran the cloth over Sam's tee shirt, dislodging the crust of filth, watching with worry as the water turned a grayish pink. "Easy Sammy. You're okay now. I'm right here. I just need to look ya over." Dean felt the heat coming from Sam's temple where it met his neck, still worryingly high. Dean felt a tap on his shoulder and glanced up to see Joshua holding out a pair of scissors. Dean nodded, still hanging on to Sam, running water over his face and neck again, cringing at the smell it was taking on. Joshua wordlessly eased the scissors up Sam's pants cuff and began cutting. Sam jumped when the cold blade touched his thigh, but remained silent, breathing ragged, face still turned into Dean. Soon his filthy jeans were discarded, water sloshing over bruises and dirt, loosening the latter, and allowing Dean to wash it away. Josh soundlessly walked out of the room. Finally Dean began to feel the heat from Sam lessen somewhat, his brother beginning to shiver, although he himself was sweating profusely.

"Josh?" Dean called softly, absorbing Sam's flinch with one of his own.

"What do ya need, Ace?" The hunter asked from the doorway, deep voice pitched low salt canister in his hand.

"Let the water out. Maybe run some more, a little warmer?" Joshua walked around Dean to the spigot and turned on warm water, reaching in and pulling the plug as he let it run, stirring up the layer of sediment that had settled on the bottom in a scummy film. Satisfied that the water would be a little cleaner, Josh put the plug back in and warm water began to filter in around Sam's body, easing his shivering. Sam's head rolled away from Dean's neck, eyes closing as he gave in to exhaustion, giving Dean the opportunity to shift positions and ease the strain on his legs. Dean sat on the rim of the tub, watching as the water rose to a level he could reach. He saw Sam's tee clinging to his abs, thinner than he remembered from just ten days ago.

The material was becoming suspended in the water, floating slightly and it edged up, showing Dean the perimeter of a nasty looking redness. Josh saw it too and lifted the shirt, his eyes widening briefly.

"What?"

"Wound on his stomach. Not deep but bad. Damn things been cauterized. It's infected."

Dean began moving again, a little quicker as he ran some soap over Sam's exposed skin, the washcloth lathering as it wiped away the remainder of the grime. Dean ran the cloth over Sam's hair and rinsed the suds from the cloth, running it back over to take the soap from Sam's chocolate locks. "This'll have to do until he can do it himself." Joshua let the water out again, grabbed two towels from the rack, handing one to Dean, he began to rub water from Sam's legs, seeing all of the bruises. Anger at the treatment of someone he considered family burned through his veins. Josh's hands stayed deceptively gentle, but as Dean glanced up, he saw the set of the man's face, how tense his wide shoulders were.

"Hey, man. I'm gonna get him into some dry clothes. You have that big med kit in your truck, right?"

"Yeah."

"Grab it, will ya? I think we might need it." Dean gave the hunter the out he needed to get some air.

"Sammy?" Dean jostled his brother softly. "Hey buddy?" Sam's face tightened in pain. "Sorry Sammy, but we gotta getcha patched up." His eyes finally opened to washed out slits, just before clenching tightly shut, his chapped lips parting in a gasp of pain.

"It's okay, jus' keep 'em closed." Dean eased his brother out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. He draped another towel around Sam's waist and helped him out of one pair of boxers and into another. He cut Sam's tee away, putting the towel around his bare shoulders more securely, then helped him into the loose fitting flannel pants. By that time Sam was stifling pained moans, high spots of crimson on his cheeks the only color in his waxen face. Dean felt Sam sag into him and caught him, both of them nearly going to the hard tile floor.

"Whoa easy!"

"Ace?"

"Help Josh!" Dean held his brother up and fisted his damp hair gently. "You're gonna be okay. Don't care what anyone says, you're still heavy even if you are half starved, Sasquatch."

Joshua came into the bathroom and took half of Sam's weight, while letting Dean control the situation. Together they got Sam to the bed and eased him down. Turning on the bedside lamp, Dean's worry spiked when the light hit Sam and he didn't flinch. Shaking fingers went to a pulse.

"He's alright Dean. Passed out is all." Josh gently touched the wound on Sam's abdomen, seeing fluid build up beneath the ugly scab. He pushed around the edges of it watching the crust, softened by water, crack and pus ooze from the wound. "We'll have to drain it."

Josh turned and dug in his large medical kit, pulling out gauze, forceps and disinfectant. He pulled a small knife from his pocket, a toothpick, opening the thin, razor sharp blade. He doused it with disinfectant and leaned over Sam, pulling the gooseneck of the bedside lamp over him to cut the shadows. Dean stopped him as he lowered the knife.

"I got it Josh." Dean took the blade and carefully split the soft scab, cringing at the yellowish goo and blood that bubbled up. A sickly smell filled Dean's nostrils and his face paled, but he carried on, taking the edges of the scab with the tip of the knife and slowly peeling them back. Joshua handed him gauze soaked in disinfectant, clenched in the forceps. Dean mopped the wound, forcing himself to become detached as the gauze soaked up green and yellow, tipped in fresh red and froth like a grotesque rose from a nightmare.

Dean dropped the gauze into the wastebasket that Joshua offered, hands shaking. "Step back, Ace."

"'M alright."

"Dean."

"Okay!" Dean bellowed, turning away from the hunter, scrubbing a hand over his stubble. Josh stared after Dean for a second before turning his attention to Sam's seeping wound. He worked the tools, getting still more infection from Sam's body.

"Dean." He said several minutes later. Dean stood straight from where he leaned against the wall, foot propped against the wallpaper. "Get me the whiskey outta the kit."

Dean pulled the flask and small glass from the kit and handed it to Josh, who capped it with his teeth, pouring some into the glass. "Gettin' to ya too?"

Joshua's lips thinned. "Never blamed ya, kid. It's gonna get to us a whole lot more in a few minutes."

"What? Why?"

"There's somethin' in there." The hunter had no more than finished the words when Sam stirred on the bed, his mouth tightening. Dean leaned over and put a comfortingly cool hand on Sam's heated forehead.

"Shh, just stay out Sammy." The youngest Winchester stilled beneath his brother's touch.

Joshua poured more disinfectant on the forceps, knife and Sam's wound, mopping up pus, foam and blood with gauze. He put the point of the knife into the wound, feeling it hit something hard about an inch beneath the surface. "Good, doesn't look like it went beneath his abdominal wall. Means it's stuck in muscle and not his intestines."

Sam moaned and stirred on the bed. "Dean, he's comin' round. You're gonna have to hold him down. This ain't gonna be a cake walk."

Dean huffed a tense laugh. "He always did have lousy timin'."

**Will shoot for another post at the weekend. Leave a review!**


	7. Slipped from the Tip of Your Tongue

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing the last chapter. Here's another one to keep you going until the weekend. I think that will be the first time I'll be able to update. Just a couple more chapters after this one. We'll have to see how it goes for Sammy until the end. WARNINGS for a little gore and a lotta pissed off hunter language. There's a little more of what Sam went through down there in this chapter.**

**Chapter 6: Slipped From the Tip of Your Tongue**

Sam bucked as Joshua edged the forceps into the wound, Dean instantly leaning over him, locking one arm over his shoulders and using the other one to tousle Sam's hair, finally laying his palm on Sam's forehead.

"Easy Sam, easy. You're alright. It's okay." Dean muttered as Sam's breath hitched and then sped up, chest heaving. His head tipped back, grinding into the pillow. Cords of muscle and veins stood out on his neck and arms, muscles bulging with his clenching fists.

Joshua gripped the object embedded in Sam's stomach with the curved tips of the forceps, testing the hold.

"Alright Dean, don't let 'im move." Dean leaned his head down beside Sam's in response, continuing the soothing litany of _it's alright, Sammy. You're okay, I'm here _in a choked whisper. His arms rippled as he fought to hold Sam down when Josh began to extract the object. Sam's eyes flew open then clenched tightly shut, his body going rigid as he screamed. His scream died off just as Joshua's "Got it! Got it." sounded out, the _clink_ of the object going into the shot glass loud in the sudden silence. Joshua laid gauze over the wound, applying pressure to staunch the fresh bleeding. Dean laid his arms gently over Sam's rising and falling chest, pulling his little brother's head closer with a hand in a makeshift hug while fingers found a slightly fast but steady pulse beneath the warm flesh.

Joshua applied another layer of gauze and continued to work at controlling the bleeding, finally noticing it stop by the forth layer as Sam remained unconscious and Dean stayed silent, reluctant to even pull back.

Joshua eased the gauze away from the wound, once again gently disinfecting the wound. He threaded a needle expertly and eleven tiny stitches later, sat back and wiped bloody hands on a towel. His eyes fell on the once amber, now burgundy liquid in the glass and he sensed more than saw Dean lift his head.

"What was it Josh?" Dean watched the hunter as tears built in his dark eyes, before he paled and bolted for the bathroom. Dean smoothed Sam's hair back, finally hearing the toilet flush. The older hunter stepped out of the bathroom and reached for the flask, downing a hearty swig of whiskey. A telling shimmer on his cheeks reflected the light as he walked back into the room, leaned over Sam and brushed a hand gently over his forehead.

"What the fuck have y'been through, boy?" Joshua asked softly.

"Too damn much." Dean answered.

"It was the tip of a finger bone, Dean. Kid musta fallen on it in the dark."

"Fuck!" Dean cried, tears filling his eyes to course down his face, getting lost in his stubble. He leaned over, putting his head on the pillow next to Sam's, his shoulders shaking silently.

***

"Mnuh…" Sam murmured, restless, his head rocking on the pillow. Sweat beaded on his forehead to be mopped away by the damp cloth in Dean's hand. Dean grabbed two Tylenol from the bedside table and a glass of cool water. Lifting Sam's head he placed the pills against Sam's lips. "C'mon kid, need ya to swallow these. Make ya feel better." Sam's lips parted just enough to get the pills past. Dean tipped the glass to his brother's lips and watched the water seep through. Sam swallowed, coughing weakly, water dripping from the corner of his lips to trail back his cheek to his ear.

"Shhshh." Dean soothed, his thumb working back and forth over the ridge of Sam's brow, just beneath the folded cloth. Dean's eyes, laden down with dark circles beneath them, flicked to the hunter who sat slouched at the table, his wide shoulders slightly hunched, the flask held between his large hands. "He's gettin' worse."

"It's not the wound. Checked it already. Stitches are holdin', it's clean. It's somethin' else."

"He needs a hospital."

"What are you gonna tell 'em, huh?"

"I'll think of somethin'!"

"What?! That he was kidnapped by demons, held for ten days in the pitch black chamber above a flooded catacomb, no food, no water. Oh, yeah, by the way, he fell on a skeletal human hand, my buddy dug it out of his gut with a pen knife!" Joshua stood, the chair clattering to it's back on the floor and slammed his meaty fist into the mini fridge door, buckling the metal. All fell silent and the refrigerator kicked on, the previously silent appliance rattling loudly. Sam moved on the bed, fidgeting, his hand fisting in the blanket pulled to his bare chest. His voice broke the tense silence.

"Nnn…dark…D'n."

"Easy kiddo, 'M here."

"Sorry Dean." Josh said softly.

"Don't be." Dean replied, sounding tired. He continued to wipe down Sam's fever flushed face. Suddenly he straightened. "Water!"

"What?"

"The water in that hell hole. Ten days, Sammy had to do somethin'. That or the freakin' demons…" Dean's mind flashed back to the darkened room. "The hole in the floor. If Sam had fallen through, wound up in the catacomb…god, he had to have swallowed some of that shit, or breathed it in. It's gotta be what's makin' him so sick."

"There's some pretty powerful antibiotics the kit." Joshua walked to the bed where the box resided and pulled the vial and a syringe. He jabbed the needle into the plug on the vial and pulled back the plunger to dispense the proper dosage. Dean swabbed Sam's arm with the disinfectant he'd snagged from it's resting place on the table. Sam moaned at the cool sensation on his arm. Joshua plunged the needle into his flesh. "There."

_He felt the water close over his head, seeping into his nose, filling his lungs, turning his stomach sour. The cloying sent of death invaded him and pulled him under. His eyes opened beneath the surface, hands reaching for him; bloated gray faces called to him, lips blue, swollen, pulled back in cries, snarls. The fingers floating near his face beckoned to him, curled in death, but still calling to him. Muffled, crying voices filled his head, lips calling his name. He felt hands clawing at his shoulders, his wrists, his legs, holding him down. His lungs burned, the stench of death-of rot- replacing the oxygen his body began screaming for. Bubbles drifted from his lips up past his face in a curtain, blurring as they rose through the gray encroaching on the edges of his vision. The voices got louder, going from watery whispers to persistent calls._

"_Sam." _

"_Sam. Sam. Sam."_

"_Samsamsamsamsamsam." He felt weightless, the water suspending him, jostled by limbs and torsos, jumping when the faces floated by, screaming at him. "Sam, Sammy, Sammy!"_

"Sammy!!" Dean rolled his struggling brother over onto his left side, holding his head as he vomited into the waist basket. Bile, water and half dissolved pills flowed into the small can, a sickening smell flooding the room. Dean rubbed Sam's back until his heaves subsided, a tear falling into the mess in the wastebasket, before Dean helped Sam lay back. "Easy. Sam."

"D'n?"

"I'm here."

"Don'feel s'good."

"I know."

"Thought…thought…" more tears fell from Sam's eyes.

"It's alright." Dean said softly.

"Was dark…h-heard your voice. They-they hurt you."

"Hey, hey. Listen to me. I don't know what they did to you…I don't know what you saw, but it wasn't me. Okay?" Dean put a hand to his chest. "I'm here, I'm fine. Been with Josh since a couple hours after y'disappeared."

"How long?" Sam asked, eyes drifting closed, voice turning to a rough whisper. He swallowed hard.

"Don't worry about it. We'll talk when ya feel better." Dean pushed Sam's hair back from his face, relieved to see the pain lines smooth out just a bit as his brother succumbed to the need for sleep. Dean stood from the bed and motioned to Joshua.

"He threw up the Tylenol. It's half dissolved. I don't know how much actually got into his system. I don't think it was enough to do him any good."

"It's at least two hours before he can have anymore antibiotics."

"I know that." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "He _needs_ a doctor."

Joshua didn't say anything, instead he left the room, door banging shut behind him and Sam flinching. Dean could see him pacing back and forth between the motel door and his truck. He finally heard the hard bed cover open and close. The hunter came back into the room, stepping over the salt line, duffel bag in hand.

"I called a buddy of mine, Ace. He was a medic in a squadron I fought alongside in Storm. Good man. Seen a lot of crap. He lives two hours away, has a private practice. He's on his way here."

Dean watched as Joshua opened his bag, pulling a sawed off shotgun which he methodically began to clean. Dean recognized it as a habit of Joshua's whenever he was agitated. "Thanks." Dean said.

"D-d'n." Sam whispered from the bed. Dean rushed across the room and sat down on the bed.

"Heya Sammy. How ya feelin'?"

"Lousy." Sam swallowed hard. Dean reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and lifted Sam's head, letting him sip at it.

"Ah-ah. Easy. Not too much. Don't want ya sick again." Sam coughed and settled, Dean lowered his head back to the pillow.

"Keep…I keep having these dreams. They sc-scare me."

"It's alright. We'll deal with it when ya feel better, okay?" He felt Sam's forehead with the back of his hand, "You're still too warm. Think you can keep some Tylenol down this time?"

"Dunno. Tired."

"I know. Just take these and rest." Dean palmed two of the pills and eased Sam's head up. He dry swallowed and Dean gave him another sip of water. Sam turned onto his left side, grimacing slightly before he eyes closed, a shiver moving through him.

***

Bobby Singer pressed the gas a little harder, glancing at the crumpled map on the passenger seat of the box van he drove. The breaking news droned on in the background from the AM/FM radio he hardly ever turned on, his eyes shifting beneath his cap scanning the road, as the weather came on, the meteorologist talking about storms along the gulf coast. Bobby turned up the volume and glanced at the map.

"_And here we have a super cell forming off the coast of Louisiana that promises to dump at least three inches of rain along low lying areas, some receiving it as quickly as the next hour. The storms are located…" _Bobby slammed on the brakes, listening as he grabbed the map, drew dots over the city and town locations that the woman spoke of, quickly drawing lines connecting them.

"Damn it!" Bobby cursed, as he punched the gas, the van fishtailing as it pulled from the gravel shoulder onto pavement, tires squalling. He grabbed for his phone and slammed a grease stained finger down on speed dial number one.

**Leave a review! See you on the next chapter.**


	8. Joker on Jack

**A/N: Over a hundred reviews! You guys rock!! THANKS SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO HITS THAT LITTLE BUTTON. I figured you wanted another chapter so I'll update, then reply to all the wonderful reviews. I can't wait to hear what you think about this chapter. Enjoy the read.**

**Chapter 7: Joker On Jack**

Joshua leaned against the window, careful of the salt lining the sill. His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. "This is Joshua." He waited a second. "Yeah, thanks for the tip. Good, man. We'll see ya then." Joshua's cell crackled as thunder rumbled low outside, obscuring Ben's last sentence. He moved away from the window.

"He'll be here soon?"

"Thirty five minutes." Dean cast a glance at his brother's dry, flushed face. Sam flinched whenever thunder clapped overhead, eyes moving beneath the shadowed, sunken lids. His cracked lips were moving in a whisper. Dean, only by leaning close was able to catch bits of words, Sam's pleas, begging for water, only to shy away and grimace as if he'd been made to drink something awful. Sam begging for freedom, begging for Dean. He suddenly gagged and snapped awake, scrabbling to sit up. Dean grabbed for him and leaned him over the edge of the bed, allowing him to vomit in the wastebasket Josh had emptied once already. "Ben said that if he keeps throwin' up to grind two Tylenol up and give 'em to him in a tablespoon of milk."

"Milk? Don't think that's on the list of what's in the fridge, Josh."

"Smartass." Josh rolled his eyes.

"Look, I can use some air, I'll see if I can get some. Can ya stay with him?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Dean shrugged into his jacket and left the room, part of him glad to be able to stretch his legs and the other part screaming for him to turn around and run back to his brother as fast as he could. Dean forced himself to keep walking towards the office, raising his collar against the suddenly chilly wind. He opened the door, the bells tied to it chiming wildly as they bounced off the glass. A young woman with deep brown, almost black, hair glanced up from the book she was reading.

"Hi."

"Hey. Um, this might sound really stupid, but do you know where I can get a little milk without leaving? My brother's sick and it helps to settle his stomach."

"I have some upstairs in my apartment. You just want a cup full?"

"That would be great."

"I'll get it for you." She walked off, Dean watching appreciatively as she climbed the stairs. She returned with a juice glass full of milk and handed it to Dean.

"Thanks." Dean turned to leave.

"Sure thing…sugar."

Dean turned back just in time to see her eyes bleed black. Thunder rumbled heavily overhead, shaking the artificial plants that hung on the walls in sconces. The glass flew from Dean's hand and shattered as she lifted her head and Dean felt himself flying backwards. His back smacked off a picture frame as it hit the wall, sending pain through his right shoulder and more glass and gaudily painted picture frame to the floor, shattering on his boots.

"Gah! You bitch!"

"Now, now. That's not very nice. You didn't learn your lesson from the church?" As she stepped closer to him the pressure on his chest increased, knocking the air from his lungs. He groaned.

"I sent you…back…to hell."

"Nnoo, you sent my sister back there. Father isn't pleased with you Dean."

"Go to…" his words were choked off as she held up a hand, clenching a fist over his heart. "AARGH!"

She released him slightly, his head drooping to his chest as he heaved in air by the precious lung full. "Feel familiar? Daddy taught me that little trick."

"Yellow Eyes?" Dean puffed. "Makes sense, you act like such a good puppy, quick learner and all."

"You arrogant piece of…" She raised a hand again and walked closer to him. He gasped, feeling like he was being pressed into the wall. He felt his nose begin to bleed and he fought to raise fear filled greens in her direction.

"He's coming for Sammy, Dean. He wants his favorite by his side."

"Wh-what?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"ACE!" Joshua barked, voice drowned out by thunder. He flung Holy Water at the demon and she shrieked. Joshua began chanting an exorcism and cut off when black smoke spewed from her mouth and seeped through a vent in the wall. The host fell to the floor, unmoving.

Dean slid down the wall, coughing, blood dripping from his nose down over his lips. Joshua crouched beside him. "Ya alright?"

"S-sammy?"

"He's safe in the room. C'mon." Joshua helped Dean stand and steadied him until he pulled away, headed for the room. His cell rang and he yanked it from his pocket.

"Yeah Bobby?"

"_Kid, I'm an hour out. You got a horde o' demons 'bout to come down on you! Was listenin' to the radio an' there's more sign all around your location. 'Nother pentagram Dean. Get secure. I'm on my way to you!" _Bobby ended the call and Dean looked at Joshua.

"There's more of 'em." Dean said, breaking into a sprint for the door. He got within ten feet and three male demons stepped out of the darkness. His weight shifted backwards as he skidded feet first to a stop.

The demons stepped forward, two of them grabbing Dean by the arms, the third plowing a fist into Dean's gut, doubling him over with a pained grunt and a _whoosh_ of lost breath.

"Dean!"

The older hunter powered in like a locomotive, barreling into the demon who'd punched Dean, taking him to the ground. The demon rolled on Joshua, slamming his head into the sidewalk. Blood blossomed on the concrete, but Josh delivered another punch to the demon's chin, swiftly followed by a kick to the back and a buck, dislodging the demon as Josh fought his way from beneath him. Dean, still sagging between the demons finally got the strength back to get an arm free. He punched one in the nose and caught the other with a back hand to the throat. He began chanting an exorcism only to be kicked in the chest and knocked to the pavement.

A red van pulled to a hasty halt in the parking lot, ignored by demons and hunters alike. A slim, well built blond man slipped from the driver's seat, seeing the commotion in front of a wing of the motel. He looked through the faces, seeing one he recognized on the ground, with a dog pile of wild looking men and women on top of him.

"JOSH!" Ben Wyatt bellowed, taking three running steps towards the downed man before he felt hands close on the sides of his head and whip it to the side. A pop and his body seeming to disappear was the last thing he felt. His body dropped to the pavement.

Tires shrieked to a stop, the armored truck clattering up and over a curb as Bobby slammed the brakes and whipped the wheel into the parking lot. The demons turned at the noise, Dean laying on the pavement between them, Joshua nearby, groaning and curling in on himself to shield his abused ribs. They rushed the truck, hissing and shrieking when they came into contact with iron panels coated in salt and holy water. The box truck rocked beneath their onslaught, but remained intact. Bobby picked up the microphone for the CB radio mounted on the dash and a shrill ringing like a poorly adjusted high school loudspeaker filled the air around the motel, followed by Bobby's gruff voice.

"_Exorcizo te, immundissime spiritus, omnis incursio adversarii, omne phantasma, omnis legio, in nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi eradicare…" _Bobby hit the lever for the windshield washer fluid as demons scrambled onto the hood and tried to kick their way through the glass. Flesh sizzled as holy water pushed from the jets and coated the demons. Some fell off the hood, screaming and cursing, others jumping on the roof of the box truck to resume their attack, still steaming. _"…et effugare ab hoc plasmate Dei. Ipse tibi imperat, qui te de supernis caelorum in inferiora terrae demergi praecepit." _Bobby remained strong, the truck rocking around him, but he never missed a beat in the long ago memorized exorcism. The sky around him began to darken with expelled black smoke as the lesser demons were unable to withstand his assault.

Joshua pushed to his feet and staggered to Dean's side, pulling the groggy hunter upright. They made their way into the motel room and back to Sam. Dean managed to stand on his own as he crossed the threshold, bleary eyes immediately seeking his brother.

"HEY!"

**A/N: Oops. Didn't mean to leave this here...wait...yes, I did. Leave a review!  
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	9. A Dead Man's Touch

**A/N: Crazy week, and then some. Sorry it took me so long to update. These last two chapters are gonna come quickly, much to someone's relief(thanks, TraSan!) and they belong to the one and only Skag Trendy. She knows why. Thanks, my friend. Smother that beautiful puppy with hugs!**

**Chapter 8: A Dead Man's Touch**

Joshua stared as the man crouched over Sam stood, keeping his back to the hunters. Sam lay on his injured side, face turned into the carpet, laying over a sigil looking like a mirror reflection of two side by side pyramids that was burned into the fibers, the smell of singed nylon and sulfur filling the air in the room. Soot smudged over Sam's bare shoulder intensified the paleness of his skin.

"Turn around you sonuvabitch!" Dean growled. The man turned, yellow eyes glinting even in the dim lighting. Dean grunted, his cry echoed by Joshua as they were both taken off their feet and propelled into the wall on either side of the door. The opening slammed shut, the jarring of the door banging into the frame being felt throughout both their bodies. Thunder overhead made the walls rattle.

"Nice t' see ya again Deano."

"Gee…" Dean ground out, steeling himself and plastering a sarcastic smirk on his face as he looked at the demon he'd spent his entire life with his dad trying to find. "…wish I could say the same."

"Aw, you don't wanna hurt my feelings, do ya Dean?" Yellow Eyes said, looking down at Sam's unmoving form with intent clear on his face.

"You leave him alone!" Joshua bellowed.

"You're not a part of this conversation." The demon said, waving a hand at Joshua, whose head slammed into the wall. Josh slumped but remained upright, pinned to the wall in the demon's touchless grasp.

"Don't hurt them!" Dean cried, his eyes roving over Sam's back, the only part he could see of his brother. He didn't see the movement that he desperately wanted to, the movement that told him his brother was alive.

"Don't worry. I'd never hurt Sammy. He's my favorite." The demon taunted. "You on the other hand…what would little Sammy do without big brother…" Dean watched as Sam's back moved, his shoulder blade lifting enough to let Dean know his chest was still expanding and contracting with breath.

"The…the salt…"

"You think that hurts me, stops me? You really have a lot to learn. You, your daddy, way outta your league when it comes to somethin' like me." The demon walked right up to Dean, waving a finger and forcing Dean's head to turn to lock eyes with him. "I should turn you into a grease stain." Dean swallowed. The demon stepped back, smirking. "Well, it's been fun, but I got what I came for." He said, looking down at the youngest Winchester again. Lightning made his eyes glow as it brightened the room.

"NO! Don't you take him!"

"Take him? I don't want to take him. I want him right here. This is his path, and he's right where he's meant to be. In the very steps he's meant to walk. You really should thank me though. While you were outside playing with the other kids, he almost gave up the ghost." Yellow eyes clucked sympathetically. "Poor kid. Nasty sick if you ask me…too weak to roll over and keep from choking on his own vomit."

Outside, lightning lit up the sky, thunder cracking off before the purplish white light even faded. Bobby's strong voice continued with the last phrases of the exorcism. Dean and Joshua fell free of the demon's grasp, the older hunter remaining motionless, as it disappeared in a ball of flame. Bobby's voice stopped and a sound like a cross between hurricane winds and a swarm of locusts filled the air. The light in the room flickered repeatedly, the shade shaking, before it finally stopped, casting a halo of light around the stand it sat on while the rest of the room remained in shadow. Dean quickly checked on Joshua, finding him alive, slumped half upright at the base of the wall he'd been pinned to. He rushed to his little brother's side, gently rolling him. Sam's pale face was smooth, free of pain lines, the color normal, not the flushed, over brightness of fever. Dean looked over Sam's face, neck and chest, seeing the absence of the bruising that had been there. A dark line of soot lay in the area where his wound was. Dean brushed a finger gently over it, the ash crumbling away to reveal flawless, cool skin.

"Mnn, Dean?" Sam muttered, eyes opening clear and unconfused.

"You okay?" Dean asked him, a hand on his shoulder.

"M'fine. Why am I on the floor?" Dean's answer to Sam's question was interrupted by Bobby bursting through the door looking like a wild man, hat askew on his head, his vest undone and arms held poised to fight.

"You boys alright?" He asked, as he looked them over, seeing Dean with the bruises and swollen places and Sam looking like he'd just woken from the most peaceful nap of his life.

"Peachy." Dean muttered, running a hand back over his head as the other arm steadied Sam while he sat up. Joshua groaned where he rested against the wall, chin lifting from his chest as his hand went to the back of his head, probing the several bumps that were developing. He looked from Dean to Sam then turned his head to Bobby.

"What kept ya, Singer?"

"Don't start with me, Army." Joshua stood, stretching his back. He groaned again.

"Glad you're here. These two…they can be pains in your ass for a while."

Dean stood and heaved Sam to his feet, walking him three steps to lower him back to the bed. Dean sat beside his brother, turning to look him over again, his knee brushing Sam's thigh.

"You sure you're alright?"

"I think so. I feel better."

"You remember what happened?"

"Bits and pieces. Everything was dark, forever it seemed like. Like I was underground or something. Everything reeked." Sam's face paled just a bit before he continued. "I fell through the floor, tryin' to get out. I thought I was goin' crazy." He whispered. "Dunno, must've got sick or something 'cos everything up until now is muddled. Dean, please tell me we can get outta here?"

Dean was just about to answer when Joshua cursed.

"Damn it!" Joshua barked as he stood beside the window, looking out. He stalked across the room and was halfway across the lot before Dean could catch up. He saw what Josh was headed for, a red cargo van with the driver's door hanging open and a form laying only yards from it, the man's neck bent at a very wrong angle.

"Josh, what?" Dean asked as he saw his friend kneel beside the body and futilely check for a pulse. The ex-soldier lowered his head, long hair hanging down his back.

"It's Ben. Goddamn demons got him. Sulfur on his neck where it's broke."

"'M sorry man."

"Me too."

Sam stood between Dean and Bobby, clad in Jeans and a black hoodie, hands tucked in his pockets, his face a little pale yet. Firelight warmed them as Joshua lit the pyre where his friend rested. The long haired hunter stepped back, hand cutting through the air on a brisk salute.

"He was a damn good soldier. Saved a lot of people. Deserves to go out like a hero, like a hunter." The ex-army man said before he turned to walk to the Winchesters.

"Follow you guys back to South Dakota? I got wind of a hunt in Seattle anyhow."

"You're welcome at the Salvage yard any time, Army, y'know that." Bobby said.

"Don't go all mushy on me, old man." Joshua said, elbowing the older hunter in the ribs.

He walked to his big black truck and slid up into the cab, firing it's V8. Dean walked with Sam to the Impala parked inside and Bobby headed across the lot to the armored truck. They heard the diesel fire up and Josh led the way to the interstate.

Inside the car, Dean flicked on the wipers, clearing the windshield of the mist that was steadily falling. "You're quiet." He said to his brother, not a question but a statement.

"I just need some time, man. Then I'll talk." Sam said, turning his face to the window as his head rolled back to rest on the seat back.

"I know." his brother answered, his way of letting Sam know that he was all ears when Sam was ready.

"I remember it all."

"Know that too." Dean responded, not coming down on Sam for lying. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam's hand shoot up to his right cheek and brush away the moisture that he heard in Sam's words.

"Bobby must've been seriously bored to come up with that rig." Dean said, looking in the rearview as the box truck merged onto the freeway behind him. Dean flicked on the radio just in time for the opening strains of _Nothing Else Matters._

**A\N:** **I'm putting the next chapter up now, because I just don't know if I'll be able to get back into anything for a while. I have so much to do and not enough time to do anything. Enjoy the finale. And please review. Let me know I haven't lost you to the void!**_  
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	10. Truth, Lies, and In Between

**A/N: Here's the last chapter. I know what some of you might think... Anti-climactic, but hey, that's where it wanted to go. Thanks for reading, and well...enjoy the end.**

**Chapter 9: Truth, Lies and In Between**

_**Two days later…**_

Sam stood on the front porch, waving as Joshua backed up and turned his truck around, leaving the salvage yard in a cloud of dust. Sam leaned against the rail, watching the sun rise above towers of junk. His eyes, still slightly sensitive, we're squinted protectively as Sam focused just left of the brightness of the sunrise, yet still managed to see the colors. He jumped slightly when the floorboard behind him creaked.

"Sorry. Didn't wanna scare ya. Thought if I hit the board…"

"'S okay." Dean stood beside Sam, leaning against the same rail Sam did. He handed him a steaming cup of coffee the way Sam liked it, so light it was white and sweet enough to put anyone into a sugar coma.

"Thanks." Sam said, sipping slowly at the brew.

"Gonna be a nice mornin'." Dean said, looking in the direction of Sam's gaze, watching purples and blues brighten to the yellow and orange of daylight, edged in the blue of a clear sky.

"You didn't come out here to talk weather, Dean." Sam said, a sigh brushing past his lips.

"I just wanted to know if…y'know."

"Walk with me." Sam deadpanned, waiting until Dean was slurping his coffee like he always did. Part of him hoped his brother wouldn't hear and what was about to come could be avoided. Dean, instead, nodded.

Sam swallowed down his trepidation and took a step down off the porch, brushing a suddenly sweaty hand on his jeans. He switched the mug to the other hand and started repeating the motion until Dean took the mug. Sam jammed his freed hands into his pockets and they walked in silence through towers of stacked cars until they reached a spot Sam always gravitated to when he needed to think. Dean had found his brother there more than once as kids, one time even finding him sleeping, draped across the stack of tires he now leaned against.

"When I woke up in that chamber…god, it was so pitch black I thought I was blind. Silent, except the water dripping. I was trying to get out and I…I fell through the floor. Landed in this pit full of water. It… it was full of bodies, rotted, stinking. Someone jerked me back up into the chamber. Left me alone. I started getting sick…they beat me…" Sam broke off, his eyes rolling to the sky as he blinked quickly to staunch the budding moisture.

"I didn't…couldn't fight back and I didn't know where I was. I couldn't find you. Then I started, um…seeing things, hearing things. I guess I was pretty sick, and I was…" Sam swallowed hard. "I fell on something, a bone. Think it was a h-hand actually."

Dean grimaced as he swallowed suddenly tasteless coffee. "It was." His head dropped and he stared at the South Dakota dust beneath his feet. "Josh, uh, dug a piece of a finger out of your stomach." Sam's hand automatically went to his abs, right where the wound would have been. He looked down and swallowed, nodding.

"I've been having dreams about it."

"I've noticed." Dean said, sitting the coffee cups down on the stacked tires.

"I thought I was going crazy."

"You're not."

"It's just…I was so damn scared. Then I heard you. You came for me. I didn't know it was…I was so confused."

"I know, Sammy. I know."

"Dean, can I ask ya somethin?"

"Shoot."

"All this happened only a couple days ago?"

"You disappeared twelve days ago, we found ya nine in. It's been three."

"I felt like crap, I know that much. So what happened?"

Dean picked up his coffee cup, tossing away the cold dregs at the bottom of the cup. "Josh did a real good job of patchin' you up."

"I took a shower this morning Dean. There's no stitches, no scar. Tell me the truth."

Dean sighed, looking down at his boots again before he looked at Sam, squinting slightly in the bright sun. "You were pretty out of it. We got attacked by demons. Made our way back to you and one of 'em was in the room."

"How did it get in?"

"I don't know man. Salt didn't stop it. It pinned us both and never even twitched, knocked Josh out with a finger. Bobby was doin' a freakin' exorcism outside and it just stood there and smirked."

"Do you know what it was?"

"No. No idea." Dean said, stepping away from the tires and wandering aimlessly through the junkyard. Sam joined him, falling into step beside him shoulders brushing on occasion as they meandered their way around rusted hulks and stacked car parts, Sam finally beginning to put the last ten days behind him as he talked with his brother. They were quiet as they walked up the stairs and into the house, the warm sun high in the sky. Sam cast a glance at Dean, smiling wanly before walking slowly up the stairs.

_What am I supposed to tell you Sammy? Yellow Eyes healed you in the middle of some burned demonic symbol? Said that you're on your path and you're exactly where you're supposed to be? That I'm scared as hell now that what dad said I might have to do…that I won't be able to stop it? _

Dean heard the door to the bedroom they shared when they stayed at Bobby's close. The hunter's booted footsteps pulled Dean out of his reverie. "He okay?"

"Hope so." Dean said, those two words having more meaning that Bobby could possibly know.

"You okay?" Bobby asked, eyeing Dean from beneath his cap.

"I wish I knew." Dean said, shaking his head. Bobby went to the cupboard, pulling down a bottle of Whiskey and two shot glasses. He wordlessly poured the amber liquid in two fingered shots. Dean downed his, wincing at the burn.

"You boys need time, ya take it, hear me?"

"Yes, sir." Dean poured himself another shot, firing it back. "So what made you think up that truck?"

"Got bored." Bobby said, shrugging his shoulders.

**One last note: While I might post a tag, or a one shot now and then, I'm done with the big stories for a while now. I just can't seem to find my way out of the burlap sack that is writer's block and I just have not been able to find the time to try. Sorry to all those who want more, but (although I am still plugging away at the laptop) I am on hiatus from the long ones for a while. I have a garden to get ready, am probably starting a new job, after 7 plus years at my old one, and am praying to be able to remodel my house. I'm still around, tinkering, probably just enjoying reading and reviewing.**

**Love ya all.**

**Darksupernatural.  
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